Chapter 4
A single vigilante
On the way to Lang Chau, he spotted struggling figures among the bushes. At first, he thought it was a wild "beast" in heat, but it turned out to be "humans" causing chaos in a land of supposed peace.
All manner of criminals were either cast into imprisonment or exiled from Lang Chau. The officials and soldiers turned a blind eye, letting vice and gambling run rampant. Thiet Nam was troubled and went to ask many people. But the matters he inquired about touched upon the mandates of the court—and none among the common folk dared oppose the mandarins, for fear of unseen calamity. Thus, all turned away from the lone guardian of justice.
Suppressing his anger, Thiet Nam still couldn't comprehend why the magistrates ignored the situation. The sparse scene unsettled him even more—buyers came and went, yet enthusiasm had long faded. Only a group of elders silently shed tears for the ethnic market.
An elderly couple supported each other, leaning on their canes, their steps unsteady. The husband stumbled over a stone and fell. Tie Nan rushed forward to help him up. After thanking him, the wife softly scolded her husband:
- How many times have I told you? You're old and frail, you have no strength left, yet you still insist on coming here.
- I cannot resign myself to this fate! - The old man shook his head in disappointment, watching as crowds flocked to the gambling dens. His voice trembled slightly - That land holds all my memories; my entire life has been tied to it. It is as dear to me as my own flesh and blood! But now...
The elder gazed upon the bamboo gambling den, his sighs heavy with sorrow. Thiet Nam searched tirelessly, yet found no trace of a soul. He had not expected that, in a twist of fate, the very person he sought would emerge amidst happenstance. This may well be his final chance to uncover the truth.
Having learned from past experiences, wary that the people feared the rulers and soldiers too much to speak, Thiet Nam chose his words with utmost caution.
- My mother wishes to taste the red-rooted palm—an ancient tree, whispered about in old tales. It is said that only those dwelling in the open ground know where to find it. Do Grandfather and Grandmother know of its whereabouts?
The elders yearned to live alongside filial descendants, and Thiet Nam conducted himself with great courtesy. When he spoke of his mother, the old folk found him likable and slowly opened their hearts. An elderly woman spoke:
- The open ground belongs to the tavern master. The poor must rent space to conduct their trade. In recent days, the master has leased the land to the gamblers, for their offered price far exceeds ours.
The elderly woman watched intently as the stranger applied medicine to her husband's wounds. Thiet Nam noticed that she remained ever so slightly nodding, a trace of contentment flickering across her face—as though she had long awaited this guardian of justice. She felt joy for some unknown reason, not because of his kindness toward her husband. Yet at this moment, his attention was entirely drawn to a scene of depravity before him.
- They gamble, indulge in vice—do they not fear the soldiers will seize them?
The elder sat up abruptly, cursing in fury.
- Cursed be them, the mandarins and soldiers, who care not for the plight...
Anger rekindled the old affliction, and a violent cough wracked his chest, seizing his breath. His wife patted his back, panic-stricken, hastening Thiet Nam.
- Quick! Fetch the medicine from my pouch!
- I have a most excellent remedy for coughs!
Thiet Nam retrieved a small vial from his bindle and removed the stopper, allowing the delicate fragrance of the herbs to slowly seep into the old man's breath. Like wisps of warmth, the scent infused him with strength; his pallid complexion gradually flushed with life, his weary eyes half-closed. At last, after countless years, he could savor undisturbed repose.
The elderly woman, overcome with joy, thanked Thiet Nam profusely. He gently propped the old man against the trunk of a roadside tree and bestowed the vial upon the two elders. It was then that he heard the final chapter of their tale:
- This illness has tormented my husband for years. Now that we have lost our daily bread, his condition has worsened. If a kindhearted person were to lease this land, we would accept starvation willingly. But as it stands…
The elderly woman cast a sorrowful glance at her stubborn husband and sighed in lament:
- For years, he has clung to this place. Though the scorching sun beats down upon him, though the relentless storms assail him, his frail body has collapsed time and again, teetering on the brink of death. Still, he insists on returning here every single day.
Her voice trembled with indignation as she recounted their plight. Her husband had leased this land, and the covenant had yet to reach its full term. But driven by avarice, the heartless landowner had seized upon the opportunity for greater silver and forcibly transferred its rights to the gambling den.
- My son carried the covenant in hand, seeking justice, yet alas—the vile fiends of the gambling den tore the sacred document asunder and struck him down, leaving him crippled. For three days he lay bedridden, coughing blood, until death at last claimed him.
A grown son, crippled and helpless, relied upon his frail, aging parents for care. When his parents passed from this world, he would be left to drag his broken body through life, begging alms from the mercies of others—a fate more bitter than death. Though death might release the son from suffering, it would rend his parents' hearts asunder. The mother, choking on her grief, wept bitterly.
- Our family is ruined! And the ethnic market has withered along with us!
Once, the ethnic market was a place where memories were kept, yet now, it stands cold and lifeless, like a tomb where bygone days are laid to rest. No longer do households echo with laughter, nor do villagers dance to the melodies of reed pipes to forge companionship. The haunting strains of the flute and reed pipes mourn the absence of the songstress, longing for the days of old—when village lads, in youthful fervor, would dance with the reed pipe to confess their love to the mountain maidens.
In times long past, the market rang with the lively chatter of children at play. Yet now, parents dared not bring their offspring, fearing they might inherit unseemly habits. Those forced to lead their children hastened to procure their goods, anxious to distance themselves from the tumultuous scene.
- The Grand Chancellor and the Emperor have wrought this chaos!
The old woman furiously cast all blame upon those who had abandoned their children at the marketplace:
- Here, they host their grand martial gathering, yet they indulge the reckless misdeeds of these villainous brutes. Compared to the scoundrels of the streets, the nobles are far more despicable!
The old woman berated the rulers of the realm, stoking the flames of anger that consumed Thiet Nam's mood. His bloodshot eyes, streaked with crimson veins, bore straight into the gambling den.
- Damn you! Accursed old fiend, what dark machinations do you weave?
The Emperor, still in the prime of his years, yet Thiet Nam dared curse the old sovereign. His wife understood that his words were aimed at the Grand Chancellor of the realm. She stood aghast, hearing a voice akin to the howling of demons at her ear, unnerved by the haunting sensation that the figure before her was no longer... human.
The one who was "no longer human" had cast aside his patience, forsaking what little faith remained in the imperial court—for that court had already abandoned its people. Enraged beyond restraint, Thiet Nam stormed toward the den, felling every guard that stood in his way. With a mighty kick, he smashed open the great doors, his aura steeped in murderous intent, charging forth to quell the chaos. The guards brandished their cudgels and rushed upon him, encircling him as they bellowed:
- You weary of life, boy!
- Crush him to death!
Dozens of ruffians surged forward with menacing vigor. The gamblers within the den, indifferent, continued casting their dice, believing the troublemakers would soon be expelled. Yet, the sudden eruption of anguished screams filled the room, striking terror into all present. Each face turned pale with dread, for most of the guards now lay motionless on the ground, their limbs shattered beyond recognition—a sight too gruesome to behold.
The remaining guards, their spirits utterly crushed, sought to flee. Misfortune, however, loomed large, for the bamboo gambling den had but a single door, and that lone exit was firmly blocked by Thiet Nam. Trembling from head to toe, none dared to advance. The gambling den's master bellowed in fury:
- Defeat him, and I shall reward each of you with a thousand taels of silver—enough to indulge in the pleasures with women to your heart's content!
The scent of silver, mingled with the allure of women's fragrance, spurred the greedy and lustful scoundrels into a frenzied assault. Thiet Nam, with a single kick, sent the leader hurtling into the cluster of guards. Without pause, he seized the nearest man by the neck and slammed him onto the table with such force that his facial bones shattered.
The gamblers, their legs weakened by fear, collapsed to the ground; some even lost control of their bladders, witnessing Thiet Nam crush the jawbone of another with a single punch.
Thiet Nam decisively ended the battle, lifting his foes one by one and hurling them fiercely into the pile of tables and chairs. Suddenly, a towering ruffian swung his cudgel from the side in a surprise attack. Thiet Nam swiftly struck the weapon into the air, flipped his left hand, and delivered a punch that sent the man sprawling. Without hesitation, he followed with a kick that sent the ruffian flying, crashing into the courtesans. The women, terrified, scattered in all directions.
The burliest of men lingered on the fringes, awaiting his moment. He spotted the blood-crazed beast expose a vulnerability and seized the chance, brandishing his blade for a treacherous strike to the back. The master of the gambling den reveled in anticipation, certain the troublemaker would meet his end, skewered by the attack. Yet midway through its arc, Thiet Nam spun with deft precision and sent the weapon flying with a single kick. Seizing the fallen cudgel, he swung it with all his might, smashing it onto the ruffian's head.
Blood poured down the man's face, splattering across the room as the shattered cudgel broke apart. The ruffian collapsed to the ground, seemingly lifeless.
The courtesans, witnessing the scene, believed Thiet Nam had committed murder. Their faces turned pale as they huddled together, crying out in terror:
- Murder! There's a killer! Save us!
The scream drove the monster into a frenzy. His eyes burned crimson, his fury blazing, striking fear into all who beheld him. The crowd shrank back, trembling in silence. The gambling den's master and the gamblers stood frozen, their faces ashen and lifeless. The beast advanced coldly, and they fell to their knees, begging for mercy:
- Whatever silver the hero desires, we shall offer all our wealth!
The gambling den's master, trembling, emptied his bag of gold and silver, pleading desperately:
- Spare us, I beg you!
The gamblers, desperate to preserve their lives, debased themselves with pitiful pleas:
- My life is worth less than that of a dog. Should the hero slay me, it would only sully your noble hands!
- Yes, yes! If the hero requires a gatekeeper, a thief-catcher, or even a bone-gnawing hound, I am willing to serve with utmost loyalty!
- Please, noble hero, show mercy and spare this wretched life!
Thiet Nam coldly held the gold and silver in his hands. The gambling den's master, mistaking this for a sign of clemency, was overcome with joy, as though his long-dead father had suddenly risen from the grave. He kowtowed fervently, as if worshipping the stars themselves.
- Are you not one who covets gold above all else? - Thiet Nam let out a cold, merciless laugh, his gaze as sharp as a dagger piercing into the gambling den's master. He struck the gold against the man's head - I shall let you savor the taste of gold.
After Thiet Nam struck his opponent, leaving his head bloodied, he momentarily released him. The gambling den's master rolled on the ground, shrieking in a piercing voice:
- We are strangers! Why do you strike me without cause?
Thiet Nam roared:
- Dare you speak further, I shall sever your tongue and cast it to the dogs!
The gambling den's master fell silent, clutching his bloodied face, not daring to utter a sound. The courtesans, trembling with terror, were relieved to find themselves unharmed. They thought Thiet Nam too noble-hearted to harm delicate flowers. Some women, believing all men to be lustful creatures, revealed sly, seductive smiles. Shedding their garments, they exposed their bare bodies and clung to his feet, pleading:
- We shall adore you all night long; please spare us!
- Handsome hero, come to me!
Another gathering, afraid the buffalo will be slow and have to drink turbid water, swiftly cast off their garments and rushed toward the Thiet Nam, intending to press their milk-laden bosoms against him, vying with their sisters for what they called "life."
These moth-like women, who had ensnared countless men, the girls were sure that Thiet Nam was no exception, he was a monster who also gasped for breath and suffocated in pleasure. Unexpectedly, the monster was furious at the party filled with the smell of lust. He stopped the pile of sullied bodies from touching him, slapping them all until their mouths bled, and many women fell face-first onto the ground.
- Any harlot who dares to continue her tricks shall have her head shaved, her body smeared with lime, and be cast into the river!
The prostitutes, pale-faced and sobbing in grievance, felt humiliation outweighing fear. To fail in seduction was a disgrace in the trade they had long relied upon for survival. Now, stripped bare before the eyes of all, their naked forms stood exposed. Though they were shameless women of bold countenance, even they could not endure the countless looks of disdain. With trembling hands, they gathered their scattered garments to shield their bodies, lowering their swollen and bruised faces in quiet shame.